


Interlude One (Teysa Goes to Subspace)

by Ovipositivity



Series: Folk [8]
Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, BDSM Scene, Collars, Dom/sub, Dominance, Elf/Human Relationship(s), F/F, Human/Monster Romance, Human/Monster Society, Modern Era, Multi, Spanking, Submission, drider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 06:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17055242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ovipositivity/pseuds/Ovipositivity
Summary: Sergeant Paladine of the Metropolitan Police has a difficult job. Sometimes, she needs to relax where nobody can see.





	Interlude One (Teysa Goes to Subspace)

**Author's Note:**

> This work features expys of my Teysa, Aliara and Matron characters from Along Came a Drider in my folks setting. I don't normally do expys, but every rule has exceptions.

The sun was setting as Sergeant Teysa Paladine of the Metropolitan Police arrived at her walk-up brownstone. Her shoulders slumped and her hair hung down in lank clumps. Dark stains ringed both of the armpits of her navy-blue uniform, and frustration radiated off her in tight coils. Still, she paused on the doorstep, sighed heavily, and took a moment to adjust her collar. She lifted her cap, revealing a close-cut mop of black hair, and ran her fingers through it in a desultory manner. Then, hat under one arm, she turned her key in the lock, swung the door open and stepped inside.

Her hat went on a peg by the door. Another just like it— perhaps a bit less embroidered with gold braid— hung on the next peg. Her jacket was hung with care in the hall closet, and her black work boots placed on the rubber mat beneath it, the heels lined up with ruler-straight exactness. She closed the hall closet door, taking care to ensure that it made no sound, then followed the hallway past the living room. Her stockinged feet padded soundlessly across the carpet. The lights here were all dimmed and the room was empty. Somewhere ahead of her she could hear laughter and the clicking of plates, and light poured out from beneath the door at the end of the hall. Instead of opening it, though, Teysa turned right.

A bare wooden door led to a small, Spartan room with hardwood floors. This room was unfurnished but for a floor-to-ceiling mirror set in the far wall and a laundry hamper in the corner. A low shelf had been built into the wall next to the hamper, and most of the floor was covered by a large black yoga mat, but aside from that it looked almost unused. A recessed fixture in the ceiling filled the room with steady light.

Underneath her uniform jacket, Teysa had been wearing a button-up blue work shirt of thick cotton. She unbuttoned this slowly and peeled her arms out of its sleeves. She sniffed one of the shirt’s armpits, wrinkled her nose, and tossed it into the hamper. The bra beneath was as simple and utilitarian as the rest of her— no lace, no embroidery, just two black cups that kept everything where she needed it to be. She tossed this in the hamper as well. Bending, she removed her socks one at a time. Her toes spread and flexed against the soft mat. She threw her socks in the hamper and unclasped her belt buckle, then pulled her belt out of her pant loops. She laid it down carefully on the floor next to her. 

Next she unbuttoned her fly. Her uniform pants were starchy and navy-blue. She felt in her pockets to confirm they were empty, then stepped out of her pants one leg at a time. She unrolled the legs, making sure the pants were right-side-out, and dropped them into the laundry as well. She stood there for a moment and regarded herself in the mirror. Her underwear might have surprised her coworkers and subordinates, who called her Iron Tey when they thought she couldn’t hear them. Here, and here alone, did Teysa allow herself some softness, a trace of sensuality. Her panties were black satin as dark and luxurious as the sinning of queens. Black lace edged the triangle of fabric, standing out against the porcelain whiteness of her thighs.

She hooked her thumbs through the waistband and slid her panties down to her ankles. She carried them to the laundry hamper with the reverential care afforded a holy relic and let them fall. Then, and only then, did she close the hamper and turn towards the center of the room.

She stood there in the middle of the mat for a second or two, appraising herself. The bruise on her left thigh was healing nicely. She had picked that up in hot pursuit of an armed robbery suspect the week before. The bruise on her left breast was still livid and fierce, and nobody at the station even knew that one  _ existed _ , let alone how she had gotten it. That was how Teysa liked it. There were some secrets she’d prefer to keep. 

Her stomach was flat and muscular, though when she had stooped to remove her socks Teysa had seen a slight roll. She frowned. They had talked about this, she knew. She was in excellent shape. She was, Li always informed her,  _ gorgeous _ . Yet still her hand went to her tummy and pinched roughly, as though it was hiding something from her. She stopped herself before she could pinch again. This was no way to behave. Her gaze went to the dark delta of her sex, the thatch of coal-black hair that hid it from sight, and then lower, to the curve of thigh and knee and calf. She hoped that, one day, what she saw would please her.

Enough indulgence. She wasn’t the one that needed pleasing.

She knelt in the middle of the floor with her feet folded up beneath her and her hands folded in her lap. She met her reflection’s serene gaze. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. All the troubles of the day-- the mess of papers on her desk, the Chass case, the precinct’s abysmal clearance rate, the ballooning overtime-- they all dried up and blew away. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. She was home. 

The tension ran out of her. Her shoulders softened slightly, hard knots of muscle unwinding. She turned towards the shelf and leaned forward. Wooden blocks divided the shelf into two parts: two small cubbyholes, each about five inches across. Beneath each was a small wooden placard with an elaborately carved letter: A and T. She reached into the cubby marked T and retrieved the item there, noting as she did so that its twin still sat on the other shelf.

The collar was a simple thing: just a strip of leather, creased and worn, with a buckle in the back. She wrapped it around her neck and clasped it with quick, practiced movements. A tiny diamond set in the front completed the look.

Something changed in her when she put on the collar. It was hard to say what, really: a minute shift in stance, maybe, a look in the eyes. Tension she had been carrying through an eighteen-hour shift flowed out of her. Her expression softened. All of the hard edges of her body seemed to melt. Her curves had always been there, gentle swells of hip and back and bosom, but now they seemed to snap into focus. She got up, stepping lightly on the balls of her feet. She paused to pick up the belt and held it dangling loosely at her side. At the door, she turned one last time to the mirror and smiled at her reflection. Then her fingers found the light switch and the room went dark. 

Back in the hall, and now she turned towards the backlit door. She moved with the unselfconscious ease of someone at home in her body. The front door was closed, and there were no windows that looked in on this hallway. There was no-one to see the way the light caught her body, no-one to see the shimmer in her eyes or the ghost of a smile that played around her lips. She reached out, took the doorknob, turned it.

Light spilled out into the hall from the kitchen. Inside, two figures turned towards the woman framed in the doorway. The first, a petite half-elf with short copper hair, smiled. “Tey!” she said, throwing her arms out. “I didn’t hear you come in! Welcome home, babe!” 

Aliara had ditched her uniform for a long T-shirt advertising some band’s tour that had ended a decade or more ago. It had belonged to her ex, and it was long enough to reach to mid-thigh. She wore no pants, but a red triangle of silk was just visible between her thighs. She sat on a tall stool by the kitchen bar with a half-empty glass in her hand. Judging by the merriness of her laugh, the glass had been drained once or twice already. Fuzzy slippers dangled off her feet.

The other person in the room was neither sitting on a stool nor wearing a T-shirt. She towered over Aliara and Teysa, though Teysa was quite a tall woman. Her skin was ashy grey, her hair white. Her face was beautiful, but it was the cold and sterile beauty of a statue. And it was somewhat marred by the mandibles that jutted out from the corners of her mouth. Eight red-tinted eyes stared out at Teysa in two columns of four. Aside from these features and her great size, she was almost passable as a human woman… from the waist up. Below that, her smooth coal skin fused into a chitinous spider body the size of a horse. She stood on eight multi-jointed legs.

She wore a diaphanous silk gown that seemed to ripple and flow, as though she was standing in a personal breeze. She had made it herself, from silk she had spun herself. Drider silk dresses were rare. Almost as rare as driders themselves.

Teysa felt privileged to belong to this one.

“Mistress,” she said, and knelt. The tiles of the kitchen were cool against her bare knees. She bowed her head and held the belt out overhead across her palms.

It was Aliara who took it, hopping down from her stool. She let the belt swing idly from her fingertips like a pendulum. “So,” she asked, with a hint of malice in her voice. “Has someone been a bad girl? Does someone need to be punished?”

“Hold.”

It was just one word, spoken quietly, but it stopped Aliara in her tracks. She bowed her head and stepped back. The smile still played across her lips, but it no longer reached her eyes. Teysa kept her own head down, but she felt one massive hand rest between her shoulder blades. Fingertips that came to pin-sharp points gently caressed the back of her neck without breaking the skin.

“Welcome home, my pet,” the drider said. She reached down under Teysa’s chin and tilted her head up. Teysa allowed herself to look upon her Mistress, but she did not raise her eyes to the drider’s face. She knew the rules. 

“Issssssss Aliara correct? Have hyou been naughty, my dear?” Mistress’s voice was a sibilant hiss, the way the wind might speak through a keyhole. It was thick with an untraceable accent.

“I have, Mistress,” Teysa replied in a flat monotone. At no point did she lift her head to look her Mistress in the eyes. “Our clearance rate is below target for the fifth quarter in a row. I was unable to secure an interview with Miss Chass’s former aide. I--”

The drider’s fingers tightened momentarily around Teysa’s shoulder, the points digging into her skin. She stopped speaking at once. She could feel five bright points of pain, but she did not hiss or groan. She knelt as stoically as a stone.

“I do not care about hyour performanssssse at work, assssss hyou well know,” Mistress said. “That issssssss not my concern. What I want to know issssssss: have hyou been bad?”

Teysa hesitated for a moment, then swallowed heavily. The pain in her shoulder built. She nodded her head up and down. “Y-yes, Mistress,” she said. “I… I visited a club. A strip club. It was for a trafficking case. I had to… to interview some of the girls.” She closed her eyes. “Afterwards I… I touched myself. In the bathroom. I did not have permission. It was wrong, and I am sorry. I’ve been so stressed lately, and I--”

“Ssssssilence.” 

Teysa shut up at once. Her knees were starting to grow uncomfortable pressed against the hard tiles of the kitchen floor, but she would not move them until Mistress commanded it. To distract herself, she stared instead at the drider’s feet. There were eight of them, and they were hardly proper feet at all, just round stubs at the end of her long legs. They were arrayed around her in a circle like the hoop of an old-fashioned lady’s skirt. 

“Hyou mussssssst be twice punissssssshed, my pet,” Mistress said eventually. “Once for hyour transsssssssgression, and once for attempting to consssseal it.”

Teysa said nothing.

“Ssssssstand.”

Teysa stood.

“Bend over the table.”

Teysa did. There were two plates on the table, both mostly empty. Teysa could see scraps of curried chicken and rice. She knew she had smelled take-out. She knew without looking that the third plate would be on the floor, in the corner. 

“Aliara will deliver hyour punishment. Hyou will count.”

Aliara stepped forward again and hefted the belt. “How many, do you think?” she asked playfully. Teysa could hear the leather slapping into the half-elf’s open palm.

“I leave that to your disssssscression.”

Teysa tensed. The kitchen was silent but for the minute sounds of Aliara adjusting her stance, raising the belt, and then--

**Thwap!**

Despite herself, Teysa jumped a little. A tiny grunt escaped her lips. Pain flared in her right buttock. “One,” she said. Silence again, and--

**Thwap!**

This time, the impact fell squarely onto her left cheek. She hissed a little. “Two,” she managed.

**Thwap!**

**Thwap!**

**Thwap!**

She counted out the blows between gritted teeth. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. The impacts came fast enough to keep her off balance, but staggered enough to leave her guessing. Aliara was an expert. She would focus on one cheek until it was crying out in pain, then switch to the other just long enough for Teysa to think she was getting some relief before switching back. By the time Teysa quavered out “T-twenty,” her entire bottom felt as though it was afire. Aliara laid the belt down on the table and caressed Teysa’s cheek.

“So brave,” she murmured. “So strong. What a good girl you are.” She bent and kissed Teysa lightly on the cheek, and the feeling of her lips was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. Teysa’s thighs were quivering and tears dripped from her cheeks, but she smiled.

“May I get up, Mistress?” she asked. Her voice was slightly muffled by the table. She could hear the clicking of spider legs across the floor, and then a shadow fell over her. The Matron laid one hand on her lower back.

“Not yet, my dear,” she said. “Ssssssspread hyour legsssssss.”

Teysa did so. Her buttocks still burned, but she splayed her feet shoulder width apart and exposed the pink flower of her sex. Mistress’s fingertips traced down the small of her back, between her burning cheeks, along her perineum and then between her soft pink folds. Their tips felt smooth; Teysa could tell that, while she had been receiving her punishment, Mistress had donned the latex finger-caps she kept for just this situation.

“Is this part of my punishment, Mistress?” Teysa asked. Mistress’s free hand swatted at her reddened bottom, eliciting a sudden gasp.

“Hyou are impertinent, Teyssssssa,” she chided. “Hyou forget hyourssssself.”

“I am sorry, Mistress,” Teysa replied. She folded her arms on the table and nestled her head in between them.

This response seemed to satisfy Mistress. She began to caress Teysa’s sex, tracing the contours of its lips, brushing the pads of her fingertips across her clit. A smooth-capped thumb slid up inside her. The drider’s touch was patient and thorough. She cupped Teysa’s quim in her palm and brushed her fingertips through the wiry hairs of her mound. Her thumb plumbed the depths of Teysa’s tight, wet furrow. A moan escaped Teysa’s lips, a tiny sound of pleasure, and as if in response the Matron began to move more forcefully. She laid two fingers against Teysa’s pearl and began to rub in a circular motion. Waves of warmth flowed outward from the little nub, drawing all the tightness out of Teysa’s body. She felt herself melting into Mistress’s touch. The drider moved dexterously, her fingers sliding over and around each other. It felt as though she had a dozen hands all touching Teysa at once: probing her lips, her clit, her slit, her inner thighs, every warm soft sensitive place that she had. They were all laid bare before Mistress. 

Teysa shifted her legs. She could feel the tension thrumming in them. Her climax was building. Her breath became shallow. Her nerves trembled with excitement. The wave was rising, cresting, preparing to--

Mistress’s hand withdrew. All at once, the need that had been building inside Teysa began to crumble. She growled in the pit of her throat. She had been so  _ close _ ! She tried to grind her hips backwards, to rub against Mistress’s hand, but it was gone. She merely bucked against the empty air. Her momentum, the pleasurable wave she had been riding, it was all gone now. It had dissolved like sand. She was left with a lump in her throat and a burning need in the pit of her stomach that would not go away.

“Please,” she whined piteously. “Please.”

“That issssss hyour punishment, Teyssssssssa,” Mistress said. She stepped away from the table. “Hyou will not experience releasssssse tonight. And next time, hyou will remember by whossssssse leave hyou may come.” She paused. “Hyou may sssssstand. And eat.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Teysa stood and bowed her head. Aliara was looking at her with mingled pity and amusement. As Teysa walked past her, the half-elf reached out and pulled her in for a kiss. Her tongue slid between Teysa’s lips, tangled with her own. Their lips stayed locked for ten seconds or more before Aliara finally let the kiss break. “Love you, babe,” she said, and smiled.

“I love you, too,” Teysa replied, and nodded at the drider. “And I love you, Mistress. Thank you for showing me the error of my ways.” There: her dish was in the corner. She tried to sit down, winced at the flares of pain from her bruised buttocks, and knelt on her knees and elbows in front of it. This wasn’t the most dignified position, but she didn’t care.

“Hyou may look upon me, Teysssssa,” Mistress said. Then, and only then, did Teysa look up. She met the eight-eyed stare with one of her own. Those eyes were barely human. The irises were red, the pupils slitted. But they stared down at Teysa with such love and affection that she felt herself choking up. “Hyou are a good woman,” Mistress began. “And an excellent officer. I know hyou will sssssssolve thissss casssssse. I have total faith in hyou.” She reached down and ran her fingers through Teysa’s hair. “I love hyou, my pet.”

Despite the pain in her bottom, despite the yearning, urgent need in her gut, Teysa smiled. Tomorrow, she would leave her collar on the shelf and don her uniform. Tomorrow, she would once again be Sergeant Paladine, and the world would rest on her shoulders. But for tonight, she was content.


End file.
